


Try

by Sainety



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, BadBoyHalo - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, can be read as platonic, more hurt than comfort maybe, skeppy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sainety/pseuds/Sainety
Summary: Bad has a panic attack after a serious fight with Skeppy. Dream makes a phone call, and an important conversation happens.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 8
Kudos: 342





	Try

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first time posting a fic, it's the middle of the night and I wrote this in my phone notes :')

The thing with him and Skeppy was, they didn't really fight. They'd reach a point of disagreement, a point of frustration, and would never actually talk about it until eventually, it went away. Of course it never really did, and of course, regardless of the excuses that they made for their behaviour, no matter how hard they both tried to convince themselves they just wouldn't ever fight, it wasn't them, you cannot possibly get mad at someone you love so much, eventually someone's well of patience ran dry. 

Bad's ears were ringing from the fallout. "Fuck off."

Followed by a deafening silence.

It was immediately succeeded by a cacophony of guilt ridden thoughts, all the self loathing, biting words, and white hot tears. He was stuck sitting in the same position for a minute, more minutes, and his body wouldn't move and his breath wouldn't calm down and his head was so, so loud. He was still staring at his phone, screen black, until the notifications started coming in.

Finn, 15:06 ¬ Twitter is saying that Skeppy has blocked all your accounts lmao what are you guys playing at  
Finn, 15:20 ¬ Let me in on the plan  
Finn, 15:33 ¬ BAD  
Vurbb, 15:33 ¬ yoooo why is skeppy acting like u guys broke up you're worrying finn  
Vurbb, 15:33 ¬ also can I be your bestie now  
[[ 4 missed calls from Spifey ]]  
Finn, 16:10 ¬ you are seriously worrying me Bad please answer me  
[[ 2 missed calls from Finn ]]  
Vurbb, 16:23 ¬ Skeppy just announced a serious stream what the fudge happened  
Vurbb, 16:24 ¬ Bad  
Vurbb, 16:26 ¬ Darryl

And finally:

Dream, 16:35 ¬ I'm calling you, pick up.

When the call came through, Bad managed to move his finger enough to accept it. He and Dream had been friends forever, and he had seen him in a place similar to this before. His breathing was stiff, his fingertips having slowly gone numb. 

"Bad." Dream's voice, sounding worried (more than he deserved), ringed through his room. 

He let out a shaky breath, but couldn't form any words. 

"Breathe for me, okay?" his friend continued, bringing his voice to a low and steady tone. "Are you stuck?" 

Bad counted to three before taking his next breath. One, two, three, four, five seconds before slowly releasing it again. He didn't answer.

"Everything is going to be okay," his friend continued steadily. "You are okay. I'm here for you. I'm gonna help you be okay, alright? I always do."

A slight pause. Breathe out again. Then, "can you wiggle your toes for me?" 

Bad snorted, and the pressure on his shoulder that was weighing him down, down, down, ever so slightly lessened. He wiggled his toes. 

"Yes," he breathed into the phone. 

"Good," Dream audibly smiled at him, "can you name five of the things in your room for me?" 

Yes. He could do that. He looked to his left, the movement in his neck stiff from the tension. "I have my television." His voice was so raspy it was barely audible. His eyes started to blur again when thoughts of discord calls on full screen crept into view again. He hated him he hated him he ha-

"What's next, Bad? Is there something red?" 

"Yes, my hoodie," was an instant answer. His fingers curled into the fabric. It was soft. It was soft. It was soft. 

"Are there any of Rat's toys around?" 

It was soft. "No, but her blanket is here," he managed to say voice muffeled with the neck of his sweater pulled up to his face. It was soft, and it was a real feeling. He hadn't felt any human touching him in so, so long. Maybe he never would. His breath got stuck in his throat alongside that thought. 

"Is Rat with you?" 

"She's downstairs." And in his head, a voice echoes. 'I want to meet Rat.' 

"Is she getting hungry?" 

"Probably." Maybe. 

"I'm right here with you. We're going to get Rat some food, okay? She is probably hungry." 

Bad managed to focus his eyes on the door. He was quiet for a minute. "Okay."

"You got this. You're okay."

He shifted his legs of the side of his bed, and finally, finally stood up. And before he could be pulled down by the weight on his shoulders again, he pushed through towards the door and opened it. 

There was immediately a commotion downstair. Shakily, a smile crept onto his face. 

"Do I hear her?" 

"Yea." His voice cracked. 

"Good," Dream murmered, an approving hum following. "I missed her. I miss the Rat cam. Why hasn't she been on lately?" 

"She's been incredibly sleepy," Bad lied, "can't.. get her up."

An affirmative noise. "Do you want to hear what Patches has been up to lately?" 

"Yes," Bad said, and his voice was getting slightly clearer. So was his vision, as Rat darted towards him and met him halfway on the stairs. She needed him. She needed him to be okay. Dream knew he was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. It is what Bad kept repeating to himself while listening to one of his best friends enthusiastically retell dumb cat stories, while he heared all about his strange encounter with a woman in Target, and more insignificant happy things that he desperately clung to, until his mind was clear enough to really, properly think. 

He held Rat close as he talked to Dream about nothing at all, slowly munching on the (non thin crust) pizza that Dream had ordered him. Eventually Rat fell asleep, and they fell into silence. Dream broke it. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" 

Bad considered the option carefully, slowly thinking back to what had happened this afternoon. He wasn't in a state of panic, a state of immediate dysfunction anymore, but he still felt heat creep up his neck and a deep, painfully familiar ache in his chest. It was pounding against his chest, begging to be let out. 

Bad never truly trusted anyone. Blame it on his anxiety, blame it on terrible parenting, but at the end of the day he couldn't trust anyone to hear about his mistakes, his insecurities, about what he truely felt. Like many had before, any knowledge about him would just make it easier for people to cut him. Twist the knife a little deeper. Carve bones. 

Despite how desperately he wanted to, he never truly trusted Skeppy. And he couldn't, wouldn't, didn't trust himself enough to trust Dream either. 

But still, the reasonable part of him argued, he had never done anything to betray that trust. He would not now. And before his inner turmoil could escalate into a screaming match, he answered Dream.

"I made a mistake. I..," his voice waivered "I had a fight with Skeppy and I think he rightfully hates me now."

"Why do you say that?" 

"Because he does!", Bad exclaimed, Lucy startling from the sudden raising of his voice. "He wanted me to be honest about why I haven't met up with him yet but I," he turns back to silence, "I couldn't tell him the truth."

"I'm sure you have your reasons and I'm sure that after he cools off, he'll respect that." Dream's voice was calm, and Bad smiled bitterly at that. 

"I didn't respect him. All the reasons are stupid, I'm just such a coward." Bad paused, before adding, voice barely more than a whisper. "He's doing a serious stream."

"He's not doing a serious stream," Dream said with an unreasonable amount of soft certainty im his voice. "And any reason that would make you have a fight like that with your best friend is anything but stupid. You're feelings are important too, Bad, not just his."

"Have you ever had a fight like this with George?" 

Dream fell quiet. Eventually a soft "Yes." made it's way through the telephone line. 

"I want to believe you, but it's hard to." 

A soft chuckle game from the other side of the line. "Well, my best friend isn't as publicly dramatic as yours. Trust me." 

There you have the problem, Bad thought, with a sour taste in his mouth. 

"I lied to him about something very important, because I was scared of what he'd think of me if he found out about... it. George values honesty and I dissapointed him." Dream's voice was low, and Bad knew him well enough to pick up the trace amounts of bitterness, of resentment, with the familiar edge of it all being turned inwards. 

"But," he continued, "really, neither of us could stand being in that place. We talked it out. It is up there with the toughest conversations I've ever had." The silence following that statement said more to Bad than more words would have. He had been there to carry the weight of some of Dream's lowest moments. 

"I'm not sure if I can do that," Bad whispered, and it was just barely a lie. He knew that he couldn't do that. The fear would paralyze him and he'd just get stuck again and again and again. 

He would give up his life if it would mean that Skeppy could smile, was the raw and sharp truth. There were so many scuffed edges to that statement, so many places to cut himself. And he had, multiple times over. Maybe that was why alongside all the adoration, all the smiles, all the meaningful conversations, there was a rumbling anger. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to be everything to Skeppy, and it scared him so much that it made him want to hide. He had open wounds, and his best friend kept finding new ways to rub salt in them. 

"You can," Dream said, voice filled with sympathy. "It's going to fucking suck, but you can do it." 

I don't trust him, Bad wanted to say, lace his words with bitterness, recall everytime a joke was taken just a bit too far. I don't want to try. I don't want to hand him my heart on a silver platter. 

And that was the blatant lie, wasn't it? Skeppy already had his heart. And he'd had it for a good while. 

"Bad," Dream prodded, breaking his silence. "can you promise me you're going to try?" 

"No," was his immediate reaction, tears pricking behind his eyes again. 

"I would never be dissapointed in you if you cannot do it. It's okay. Please, just, try," Dream's voice dwindled down, "it's so important that you try. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I hadn't tried with George." 

Bad let his tears come, his hand slowly petting Lucy's fur. He really was quite pathetic. And he really, really was just too tired to be mad at himself for that. He was glad that it had worked out for Dream he loved his friends, and always tried to be the best he could be for them. They told him multiple times over that he really tried too hard. 

Tried. 

Yea, maybe he could try. 

"Okay," he finally concluded. "I'll try."

"Thank you," Dream said. There was an unspoken moment at the end of that statement, showing just a little bit of Dream laid bare. Over the years they'd learned from each other other that both of them were good at licking wounds in silence. 

"I need to sleep now," Bad smiled sadly. His drowsiness was starting to cloud his better and his worse judgement alike. 

"Yea, that sounds like a good plan. If it helps you, Skeppy deleted his serious stream announcement"

Bad chuckled, mostly just feeling empty and bare, "I'm not sure if it does. I love you, Dream."

A content hum came in reply. "I love you too, Bad."

He hung up the phone. The living room was eerily quiet now, the sky having turned to dark outside already. He really didn't have the energy to move from his couch back to his bedroom, so he closed his eyes and tried to find himself a comfortable spot to rest. 

He was going to try. Dream believed that it was going to be okay. That he could do it. He needed to try. He needed Skeppy. His eyelids closed, and the salt burned him open. 

He was going to try.


End file.
